


the universal law of gravitation

by astringxnt



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: College AU, Falling In Love Again, Getting Back Together, M/M, Travelling together, high school exes, side!yuwin, slowburn because i love that stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 14:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18500626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astringxnt/pseuds/astringxnt
Summary: if he stops to think about it, toreallythink about it, perhaps Jaehyun has never actually broken out of Youngho's orbit.





	the universal law of gravitation

See, the thing is: Jung Jaehyun has never really been one for surprises. There are a few options when _surprises_ come to mind, namely (1) one of those random pop quizzes his teachers in high school liked to shock them with, (2) finding out that he’d been accepted into his first choice of university, or (3) getting dragged to the _Kissing Booth_ , out of all available activities happening for freshman orientation, and catching a glimpse of his _high school ex_ behind the booth.

“Dude,” Jaehyun's hissing, sneakers dragging an ugly bald line into the grass as Sicheng tugs him towards the kissing booth, eyes alight as if a man on a Mission. The boy is surprisingly strong for somehow as lean as he is, and Jaehyun's got an ice cream cone in one hand, so he’d prefer to think that he’s only resisting with half his ability. “Can’t you go to this one _yourself_?”

Sicheng glances back, brief and disinterested. The ice cream nearly tips off Jaehyun's cone as he attempts a lick mid-battle (because, _priorities_ ). “Listen, this is when you offer support as a friend. And the other guy is totally your type, I’m doing us _both_ favours.”

And it’s not like Jaehyun can _deny_ , even though Sicheng doesn’t know that. Seo Youngho is _indeed_ Jaehyun's type, evident from the way he’d been distraught for a whole month during sophomore year when the older boy had graduated high school in their hometown, and they’d agreed to a mutual breakup. Long distance relationships seemed to call for a bigger tragedy, after all. Jaehyun just hadn’t expected the huge gaping hole in his chest, had realized probably a little too late (as we do all things) that Youngho had filled up so many spaces and gaps in his daily life that everything ended up feeling incomplete to a certain extent.

In retrospect, finding out that Youngho is attending the same university had sent Jaehyun's heart into overdrive. Made him excited, even. But the prospect of re-establishing acquaintance on either sides of a kissing booth? That’s a definite—

“ _No_ ,” Jaehyun's protests are louder now, panic rising as they approach imminent death. The worst part: there isn’t a queue, not even _one_ other person is standing at the booth. _Which is a shame_ , Jaehyun's mind supplies rather unhelpfully. _They’re missing out_ —

Then the guy sitting beside Youngho in the booth looks up, and makes direct eye contact with Jaehyun. Both freshmen freeze, Sicheng's grip on Jaehyun's wrist tightens, making the latter grunt.

“Look at his _smile_ ,” Sicheng whispers in clear distress, and if Jaehyun hadn’t known better, he would have thought that the Chinese boy was terrified.

Jaehyun hisses, “shut _up_ ,” because Sicheng's whisper is far from one. The commentary had obviously been audible, seeing as how Sicheng's object of admiration chuckles as he stands.

Two things happen at once: (1) Sicheng steps on Jaehyun's foot in his haste to stand right in front of the booth, and (2) as Jaehyun cursed, Youngho's head lifts, and by the look in his eyes, Jaehyun _knows_ that the older had mistaken his less-than-eloquent choice of words to be directed at him.

Blissfully unaware, Youngho's partner sticks out his hand. Jaehyun just stares at his open palm, pointedly avoiding Youngho's incredulous noise of surprise.

After a rather awkward five seconds, Sicheng regains his senses and presses a perforated line of coupons into the waiting guy’s hand. “I’m Yuta, by the way.” There’s an air of nonchalance in the way Yuta speaks, both confident and soothing. “Who’d like to go first?”

“Sicheng,” Jaehyun cuts in, before the other could sabotage him, a hand against his back. “He was _dying_ to get here, it’s only fair he gets the honours. Aren’t I right?”

It takes minimal convincing, but Yuta eventually leads Sicheng behind the booth for added privacy, concluding that Sicheng must be a “shy one”, to which Jaehyun's every cell fights to retort.

Youngho had always been the more initiative one, so it’s no surprise when he breaks the silence first. He says, albeit quietly, “hey.”

Jaehyun nods, tragically terse. And for the lack of better responses, “Hello.”

“Have you been doing well?”

“I’ve been. You?”

Small talk had never been one of Jaehyun's strong points, and Youngho seems to remember this. He smiles instead, and fills the void between them by chatting about how his past two years had been. Jaehyun listens to the familiar drone of Youngho's voice, quiet lilting that buoys memories back up the surface of his mind. The way Youngho would talk for hours on end, and Jaehyun would listen. Because while Jaehyun is a good listener, Youngho loves to talk, and that was what made them such a good match in the first place.

“Seems like college life has been especially intriguing for you,” Jaehyun muses, in the brief pocket of space where Youngho stops to take a breath. He runs his fingers through his hair, the gesture so painfully familiar that Jaehyun nearly reaches out to flick at the other’s bangs. A habit he hadn’t known he’d retained.

“Seoul’s definitely a lot more happening, but I miss home sometimes.”

Quiet heartbeats, a slight breeze flattens the grass beneath them for a short moment.

Youngho murmurs, “I’ve missed a lot of things, but I missed you most.”

And Jaehyun, his chest warms at the simple confession, the smile dimples his cheeks before he even feels the ache. “I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he adds, as a rushed afterthought, and Youngho tilts his head at that. “I just thought it’d make it easier for the both of us, is all.”

“No,” Youngho chuckles, and Jaehyun watches him pick up the line of coupons Yuta had placed on the booth. “I thought the same, but I’m glad we get to meet again. Though, I didn’t expect it to be like this.”

“This is definitely weird as hell.”

“Even so,” Youngho's eyes twinkle, equal parts amused and hesitant. “The booths are all closing in ten minutes. You gave us enough coupons for at least an hour of making out. What do you say?”

Jaehyun would like to think that he’s a man with more self discipline, but with Seo Youngho looking at him like _that_ , and a grand excuse sitting prettily on the booth, he supposes that self discipline was not present within him that day.

That’s how Sicheng and Yuta find them, with Youngho's arms caging Jaehyun against the booth, pressing him down lower, and lower, until the edge of the booth leaves a mark on the skin of Jaehyun's back, so prominent that Sicheng teases him about for the next two days whenever he changes his shirt in their dorm.

 

“We’re going to _what_?”

Sicheng's leaning back in his chair, unfazed, although the giveaway glint in his eyes tells Jaehyun that the devil is _definitely_ enjoying himself. “Oh no,” is what he says, as if he’s only relaying his order to Jaehyun, and not telling him that— “not _we_. _You’re_ going to have coffee with Youngho. Yuta and I have other plans.”

“Yes, and you tell me this _now_?” To say that he’s distressed is an understatement. Jaehyun glances down at himself in mild panic. He’s in a black shirt that he’s been lounging around their dorm in for the past _Lord knows how many_ days, and he’s thrown it on over some _sweats_ , for god’s sake. Unpresentable. Absolutely _atrocious_. He can _not_ let Youngho see him like This. “You told me you needed caffeine so I left looking like a god damn _garbage baby_.”

Unbothered, Sicheng flashes him a grin, before averting his gaze over Jaehyun's shoulder, letting out a snort. “Don’t worry, Youngho doesn’t know he’s supposed to dress up, either. Yuta made sure of that.”

“That is _not_ reassuring.” It really isn’t, and Jaehyun resists every urge in his body that wants to turn around.

Yuta slides into the seat beside Jaehyun, and slings an easy arm around his shoulders. Jaehyun makes a sound at the back of his throat, caught between a wheeze and Verbal Despair. “Don’t be a stranger,” Yuta grins, warm and easy. Lowering his voice, he murmurs, “Youngho’s really missed you.”

Jaehyun's not sure if his face seems to burn from the sudden increase in the coffeeshop’s heating, or some _other_ causes. He watches as Sicheng waves a hesitant Youngho over to sit, and promptly stands up with Yuta.

“I—”

“Bye!” Ever enthusiastic, Yuta and Sicheng leave with the airy tinkling of the bell as the door opens and closes.

At least Sicheng hadn’t lied when he’d said that Youngho hadn’t dressed up. Not that it _matters_ , because Youngho's in some basketball shorts, the crescent of their high school fading on the front, and a white shirt that’s got an Unidentified Stain on the left sleeve, _but_ he still looks good. A little voice at the back of Jaehyun's head accuses him of being biased, but he chooses to ignore it.

“So, uh.” It’s Youngho who speaks first, but it’s no surprise. “I guess we might as well hang out?”

Jaehyun sighs, running a hand over his face. “Might as well, I didn’t drag my ass out of the dorm just to go back.”

“You don’t have to sound so unenthusiastic about it,” Youngho says, feigning hurt, but the quirk in his lips betrays him. “Didn’t you miss me at all?”

“Maybe I did,” Jaehyun muses, lightly drumming his fingertips over the wooden table top. “A little bird told me that you’ve _really_ missed me, though. You should have let me ask the question instead.”

Unashamed, “What difference would it have made? I still did miss you.”

In an attempt to stay nonchalant, Jaehyun clears his throat ( _clearly_ , a novice mistake). “It’s like god forgot to give you subtlety when you were made.”

Youngho snorts, his chair making a muted scrape against the floor as he stands. “I’ll take that as a compliment. We should order, though. An iced latte for you?”

It’s only when Youngho's standing in line at the counter when Jaehyun realizes that despite it having been a little over two years, Youngho still remembers his order. He doesn’t quite know what to make of the faint warmth thrumming under his skin, even as Youngho's walking back to their table with the drinks.

“All right,” Youngho says, holding the drink out to Jaehyun for him to take a sip even before his hands have wrapped around the cup. The action is easy and so, so familiar. Jaehyun's heart aches before he realizes what’s happening. “I don’t think it’d be very interesting to stay here. Do you have anywhere else in mind?”

“Not really… my plan for today was literally just to laze in bed. I’m not very prepared.”

Youngho's got his Thinking Face on, the one where his brows cinch together just slightly, and his lower lip tucks behind his teeth. Jaehyun laughs as a distant memory of Youngho struggling to decide between spending the last of his weekly allowance on a grey shirt, or a navy blue shirt, comes to mind. It’s fond, nostalgic, and although Youngho's gaze flickers up in confusion, he smiles.

They share that moment, a fleeting pulse of silence, before Jaehyun murmurs, soft. “Want to hang around Itaewon? We can check out the museum and get dinner, too.”

Youngho grins, “I knew I could trust you not to bore us to death.”

 

Hanging out with Youngho holds a quiet familiarity, but is vastly different, at the same time.

With high school-esque curfews out of the equation, they don’t budget time down to the minute for every shop that catches their eye. There’s no pressure to _hurry up_ , just lazy browsing of clothes hangers from the left side of the rack to the right, laughing at questionable designs of wrapped chocolates (“This is a band-aid.” “No, no. Look at this fucking _condom_.” “ _Fuck_.”) and stopping every once in a while to snack on hotteok.

Time sifts away, and when Jaehyun turns around to tell Youngho about something, it immediately becomes inconsequential when he catches the way sunset drips off Youngho's lashes as he blinks.

Youngho prompts, softly, “yeah?”

And Jaehyun, he parts his lips. Closes them. Shakes his head, “Never mind, I forgot what I wanted to say.”

They don’t end up visiting the museum exhibit they’d wanted to (apparently the last entry was at 5:30 sharp in the evening, and it was nearly a quarter to six when Jaehyun went up to the box office), but they did find a quiet diner away from the partygoers, and got that dinner Jaehyun had suggested. Although—

“I hope you share the same sentiments, but,” it’s the fourth convenience store they’ve walked past on their way back to the dorms from the subway station, and Jaehyun's determination can only wear _so_ thin. “That was a tiny ass burger we had back there and I have no idea which side of my stomach it’s settled in.”

Youngho wheezes, the sound seems to have tumbled out unintended, but Jaehyun finds the sides of his lips quirking up as he turns away in an attempt to hide it.  “You know, I would have brought that up within the next five minutes if you hadn’t. Maybe we can stop by the next convenience store.”

“That would be a definite yes from me.”

Under the flickering lights of their small table, they wait for their cup ramyun to cook. Youngho makes a joke that drifts right over Jaehyun's head, but Jaehyun laughs anyway. Youngho's laugh has always been infectious like this, and Jaehyun is every bit as weak.

Maybe, he could get used to this.

 

(Sicheng, however, settles on contrasting priorities when Jaehyun relays their _not-date_ to him later.

“You’re telling me, that the both of you went to Itaewon in…” Sicheng enunciates, extra slowly, as if speaking to a young child. His hand sweeps down Jaehyun's frame in a grand gesture, disbelieving. “ _This_?”

“In our defense, we did not know we needed to be presentable when we were dragged out. And on the bright side…” Jaehyun swats Sicheng's hand away. “No one tried to sell us insurance.”

“A match made in hell indeed—” Sicheng yelps, slapping away a mouth full of pillow.)

 

It’s easy, almost _too_ easy, Jaehyun realizes, the way he and Youngho established the familiar routine of being around each other.

Easy on the shoulders, fingers brushing when they walk too close to each other, and neither reaches further or flinches back. Easy on the heart, the way Youngho sometimes calls Jaehyun in the dead of the night because he misses Jaehyun's voice and _I can’t sleep, you know only your voice puts me to sleep_. And Jaehyun, taking mock offense, _that’s a fancy way of telling me I’m boring_ , but he would oblige anyway, only hanging up when he hears quiet, even breathing on the other end of the line.

Midterms come and go with Youngho nodding off against Jaehyun's shoulder as they attempt to propel each other forward with their readings. It’s not like either of them could be blamed; Jaehyun certainly never promised that he’d be reliable at this sort of task, and Youngho of all people, would know best. But—

“This is nice.”

They’re curled up on the small couch in the dorm Youngho shares with Yuta, struggling to watch some random movie on Youngho's laptop. There’s a dead pixel on the screen, somewhere around the lower left, and it’s all Jaehyun's able to focus on for the past one hour. He startles when Youngho speaks, gaze lifting as if he’s been caught not paying attention.

He says, eloquent as ever, “huh?”

Youngho rolls his eyes (and Jaehyun knows he’s definitely caught), but he grins, familiar and _easy_. So damn easy. “I said, this is _nice_.”

Jaehyun parts his lips, about to guess his way through the movie, when Youngho continues, in a considerably quieter tone.

“Reminds me of old times.”

The silence that follows feels fragile, and Jaehyun lets himself steep in it; the warmth of Youngho's thigh pressed to the side of his, along the entire line of their arms, the way Jaehyun has his head on Youngho's shoulder. He doesn’t even remember leaning this close, but he doesn’t want to pull away.

It’s a while before he says something, pulling Youngho's attention away from the screen. He murmurs, with a lot more realization than he’d expected, “they don’t have to remain as old times.”

Youngho makes a sound, noncommittal, but when Jaehyun turns to him, he sees the _look_ in his eyes, feels as if a breeze has rushed through the cradle of his ribs, stirred his careless leaf heart from concrete slumber and carried it back—

— to the soft crinkles by Youngho's eyes as he smiles at Jaehyun, soft voice and softer gaze.

Youngho says, “yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> i died on ao3 for 2 years and have returned with my debut nct fic. [ looks off nervously. ] i've actually had this draft on my desktop since june last year, i wanted to write this fic so bad, i have Great Things planned. so, i've decided to post it in 3 parts while i slog through finals, hopefully it gets me more motivated to update!! please love johnjae a lot, thank you!
> 
> come yell @ me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/astringxnt)!!


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